


The Hearts of Youths

by Rymdunge



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Pastiche, dumb teenagers, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10098578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rymdunge/pseuds/Rymdunge
Summary: "Ulrich gripped the boy’s wrist and said something close to his ear. Realisation struck at Arthur’s heart and made his blood run cold. King Ulrich was obviously terrorising the boy, and the poor servant boy had no way of protecting himself against the will of a king."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you have a half-unit of Brontë and watch too many Austen adaptations on Netflix. The pastiche, oh lord, the pastiche!

The ancient adage goes that youth is often driven to foolishness by their untrained, unrestrained passions. Their parents and elders can only pray that they survive their violent hearts, and perhaps learn something from their mistakes.

Prince Arthur was sixteen summers old when his father brought him along for one of his diplomatic visits for the first time. Arthur was certain that he would perish from boredom during their three day stay. His father had only brought him along to show of his heir to his allies, and not because he expected Arthur to be of any use during the political talks. King Ulrich had two sons, five and seven years old and of no interest to Prince Arthur.

They were welcomed with a bombastic feast in the castle hall. Arthur looked up and down the long table at the centre of the Great Hall. He saw nobody that looked to be his own age nor anyone who looked even the slightest bit interesting. He heaved a heavy sigh and emptied his goblet.

“Awful boring, aren’t they?” murmured a lilting voice right in his ear.

Arthur jumped and turned to see a young serving boy leaning over his shoulder to refill his goblet.

“You aren’t allowed to talk with me,” Arthur said with a scowl.

“Then I shan’t,” said the boy and bounced along down the table with his wine jug.

Arthur could not help but stare at the back of his head; at the dark, almost black hair, and the large, rosy ears sticking out from his head like a pair of handles. The serving boy seemed like a beacon of light and colour in the drab, uninteresting room. Arthur felt that the boy’s eyes lingered with him, even though he had only seen them for a short moment. What blue! What light!

He wished he hadn’t been so hasty in sending the boy away. It was just like him to speak without thinking. He emptied his goblet as fast as he could, in hopes that the boy would come to refill him again. However, a different servant came by – a smiling woman of thirty or so.

Arthur looked around and spotted the serving boy filling the goblet of King Ulrich. Ulrich gripped the boy’s wrist and said something close to his ear. Realisation struck at Arthur’s heart and made his blood run cold. King Ulrich was obviously terrorising the boy, and the poor servant boy had no way of protecting himself against the will of a king. The prince did not know exactly what it meant for a master to ‘terrorise’ a servant – he had only heard knights and noblemen murmur of such things. But his virile, youthful immediately assumed it to be sexual in its nature. Arthur’s heart rate increased and his fingers tightened around his knife. He watched the boy smile awkwardly and stand completely still as he waited for the king to let go of his wrist.

The king was older than Arthur’s father, and rather ugly – as far as Arthur was concerned. To think, not only was he callous enough to force himself on the people in his employ, but had decided to single out a mere boy; and such a thin and pale creature too!

Finally, the king denied to let go of the boy’s arm. He sent the boy away with a haughty wave and a cruel smile, and Arthur decided that he would hate the foreign king for the rest of his days.

At the end of the feast, Arthur and his father were lead to their guest chambers. Arthur was glad to have his own room – he had been worried that he might be made to share with his father, because of his young age. It was good to be allowed a modicum of privacy after a long evening of being so crowded and intently watched.

As he entered the room however, he found that he was not alone. A figure was kneeling by the fire, haphazardly throwing logs into the flames. Arthur was about to tell the servant that he would have no further need for them, when he realised who it was. Even turned away, those ears were unmistakable.

After a moment’s deliberation – he wasn’t quite sure what to say – the prince cleared his throat.

The servant boy turned to look at him. “Hello, sire,” he said. “Do you wish me to help you into bed?”

Arthur flushed for some reason. “No. I don’t think I shall go to bed quite yet.”

“Alright,” said the boy, and after a pause. “I suppose I shall return in a little while.”

He made to leave, but Arthur stepped to the side, to block his path to the door. The boy stopped, only a step ahead of where he had stood. He looked at him with inscrutable eyes.

“If you have no other duties tonight, I would have you stay with me for a while.”

“Why?”

Arthur would have scolded him for questioning where he had no place to, but he worried that the boy might flee again if reprimanded, as he had at the feast. “I wish to speak with you.”

The boy smiled. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk to you.”

“That was during the feast. There is a certain etiquette during such events that needs to be followed.”

The boy jutted his jaw out and nodded contemplatively. He took a small step closer to Arthur. “And now? What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”

“What do you think of King Ulrich.”

Instantly a shadow fell across the boy’s face. The mirth disappeared out of his eyes and his shoulders drew up slightly. “I know nothing of military tactics or kingdom allegiances,” he as, words rapid and snappish. “I should think you’ll have better luck with some of the advisors. Sir Ivan has always had a liking for Camelot.”

“No- What? I’m not asking about kingdom secrets – as though _you_ would know anything of such things. I’m asking what you think of Ulrich.”

The boy glared at him. “Why?”

“I saw how he grabbed you during the feast. He seemed to pay special interest in you.”

The boy let out a frustrated gasp, half turning away. “You don’t know the half of it! He is always on my back, watching me for the tiniest misstep.”

Arthur’s heart sped up at having his suspicions confirmed. He stepped forward and grabbed the boy’s hands. “It makes my blood boil to know how he misuses you.”

“Misuses?” said the boy. “Oh, I… I mean, he can be a bit harsh. He yells at me, but that is within his right as my employer. I wouldn’t-“

“No. Do not make excuses for him.” Arthur pulled the boys hands to him, cradling them in his chest. “You shan’t have to bare it any longer.” He paused, steadying his voice and spoke the following words with all the steadiness and confidence he could muster. “I shall steal you away.”

The servant boy looked at him, firelight reflecting in his eyes. “Oh,” he whispered.

Arthur puffed his chest out and saw the way the boy’s eyes flickered between their hands and Arthur’s eyes. Those eyes, blue and golden – deepest waters and inextinguishable fires. “What is your name?” he murmured.

“Merlin,” said the boy.

“Merlin,” Arthur echoed. “Do you have a horse, Merlin?”

Merlin snorted. “No. Wherever would I get a horse?”

“Then we must share mine. We shall leave tonight, at the darkest hour, so that no one might see us leave.”

To a reader wisened by years and experience, it might appear as though one or both of the youths might have some hidden motive to their actions, but they forget what it is to be young and thoughtless. The prince truly believed that the servant boy was the prisoner of a terrible employer, and thought his own passions to stem soul from his belief in justice for all – high as low.

Merlin did not take the situation seriously, but he believed that the prince didn’t either. He assumed that this was some sort of game the prince played to alleviate his boredom, and he did not mind being a part of it, for he had always had a longing for romance and adventure. And so the boys set out into the night atop the prince’s white horse, riding down the road towards Camelot, unconcerned about the chaos their – or rather the prince’s – absence caused in the morning.

They rode through the woods for some time, until the first grey hints of morning had begun to appear at the horizon. Arthur could feel the servant boy slacken against his back. He halted his horse in the middle of a beautiful meadow. The ground was covered in a carpet of grass and soft moss, dotted with white and pale blue flowers.

Arthur jumped to the ground and turned to help the other boy alighting. Merlin looked slightly pensive for a moment at the thought of descending from such a hight, but Arthur laid his hand on his leg and encouraged him to lift it over the horse’s back. The servant boy did as compelled and gave the prince a serious look, gripping the saddle as hard as he could.

“Will you catch me?” he said. “Do you promise?”

“I think you would have to try very hard to injure yourself from such a hight, but I shall catch you, without much difficulty.” He laid both hands on Merlin’s waist.

Merlin smiled and leaned forward, laying his own hands on the prince’s shoulders and slipping from his seat. His feet touched the ground and he stood before Arthur, their toes almost touching. Merlin turned his gaze down and picked at a lose thread on Arthur’s shirt.

“What shall we do, all alone in the woods?” he said, softly.

Arthur faltered slightly. He had yet to remove his hands from the other boy’s sides, and thought it best to keep them there, seeing as Merlin appeared to still be a bit unsteady on his feet. “We shall do fine,” he said. “I am trained in battle and tracking.”

“That is very good.” Merlin was slightly perplexed by this answer. He had thought his speech terribly bold, and had expected some sort of gallant, seductive response.

“But I can see that you are tired. We ought to rest now.”

Merlin’s heart raced at that. “I think that sounds like a very good idea indeed.”

“Very good,” said Arthur, and patted Merlin’s sides resolutely, before letting go and beginning to unpack their suplies from the horse. Thanks to Merlin’s knowledge of the castle and how to get about unnoticed, they had managed to gather everything they could think they might need. Arthur unpacked their bedrolls and laid them out in the middle of the meadow.

They both went out amongst the trees to gather firewood, but Arthur would never go very far away from Merlin, and so they could not be very effective about their endeavor. Even so, they did manage to gather enough fuel to maintain a small fire for some hours.

Merlin knew how to make a fire, and sent Arthur to get something for them to eat as he lit the little pile of wood. The fire burned merrily as they each ate a chunk of good bread from the feast.

“You look very tired,” Arthur said tenderly, looking at the manner in which Merlin’s eyelids dropped. He supposed this to be the first night in a long time when Merlin could rest safely, knowing that he should never more be forced to endure the attentions of his cruel master. And how pretty his eyes were, in the grey light of dawn and the gold of the flames!

Merlin blushed and felt a shudder run through his body. He laid down on his bedroll and waited for the prince to do what he pleased with him. How exciting and new this all was! What an adventure this was; to be stolen away by a foreign prince into the woods and be _seduced._

But the prince did not descend on him with warm kisses and exacting hands. Instead he laid down on his own bedroll next to Merlin’s, as though he had no mind to take Merlin’s innocence at all Merlin laid still for a long while, becoming more and more irritated. What sort of romantic adventure was this?

He rolled onto his side towards the prince. “Are you not going to kiss me?” he said, rather boldly, if he might say so himself.

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat at hearing these words. He thought: ‘this poor boy is so used to mistreatment that he cannot imagine that anyone might wish to help without some selfish, cruel motives’. A violent desire in his heart to comfort and protect rise in his chest. He rolled onto his side and gazed into the servant boy’s eyes.

“I am a knight of Camelot.” This was not strictly true, as Arthur had yet to complete is training. “I require no reward for doing what is right.” He spoke in a soft, earnest voice, and he did truly believe his own words. Yet his eyes could not help but rome, from Merlin’s enchanting blue eyes to his pink mouth.

Merlin saw this and felt much encouraged by it. Finally, he understood that this was all part of that gallantry romantic adventures were suposed to have. He shuffled incrementally closer and licked his lips. “So you do admit that it would be a reward to kiss me?”

Arthur flushed, unable to think of anything but kissing Merlin. Merlin shuffled nearer again, peering into Arthur’s eyes. He tucked his hands against Arthur’s chest and bumped their noses together. “Will you not kiss me?” he whispered. ”Please.”

– - –

King Uther was furious. His immediate assumption was that King Ulrich had orchestrated the prince’s disappearance to deprive his neighbour of his heir. Fortunately, Prince Arthur had at least had the forethought to leave a note, explaining that he was headed back for Camelot. King Uther was initially suspicious, but when his knight pointed out that the hand was most certainly the prince’s. He was still suspicious, and sent his knight out to follow the prince and bring him back to Ulrich’s court.

Sir Leon readied himself to ride out when one of the kitchen maids rushed up to him. “Sire!” she said. “Our Merlin, he is gone. He was tending to the prince last night and we have not seen him since he went there.”

“And you believe he might have kidnapped the prince,” said the knight, voice heavy with scepticism. He had seen the boy and could never believe that the servant could overpower the prince – who had trained in the art of wars since he could walk.

“Oh no! Merlin is an absolute lamb! But we wonder what has become of him, and now that the prince has gone…”

“I understand,” said the knight. “I’ll keep an eye out for your Merlin.” He already had his suspicions, for he knew the prince better than anyone else, and he had spotted the prince watching the servant boy during the feast.

He rode into the woods dividing the two kingdoms, senses allert and hand on his sword. This part of the woods was not known to be frequented by bandits, but one could not be to careful. He spotted something white amongst the trees and dismounted. There was a clearing up ahead, and in that clearing stood the prince’s white horse. The prince and the servant boy were nowhere in sight and a sense of dread filled the knight.

He stepped closer, as quiet as he could, listening. A pretty little giggle came from somewhere in the clearing. Leon came up to a bush and peered between the leaves into the clearing. He saw a campfire, burned down to faintly glowing embers. Next to it laid two bedrolls side by side. A movement at the corner of his eye caught the knight’s attention. At the other end of the clearing, on a pillow of moss, grass and flowers, laid the prince and the servant boy, basking in the early morning sunshine. Well, Leon assumed it was the servant boy; he could only see a pair of legs sticking out on one side of the prince’s hips. The prince leaned down to kiss the servant boy. He pulled away and peered down on the boy, his hands moving out of Leon’s sight. The servant boy let out another laugh, his arms coming up to wrap about the prince’s neck, tugging him back down.

Leon stepped into the clearing and coughed.

The prince jumped to his feet and pulled a dagger from his belt. He spun around, putting himself between the servant boy and the perceived enemy. “Leon?” he said, lowering the dagger slightly. “What do you want?”

“Your father sent me to bring you back to the King Ulrich’s castle before you cause an incident.”

“I’m not letting you bring Merlin back there!” the prince snapped.

“Hello,” said the servant boy, waving awkwardly from behind Arthur’s leg.

“He will be going back to Camelot with me,” said the prince, puffing his chest out. “Don’t try to stop me. I don’t care what King Ulrich thinks of it.”

Sir Leon sighed. “King Ulrich doesn’t care what one silly servant boy does. Which is lucky for you, because your father would be furious if he knew that you had intentionally jeopardized his allegiance with Ulrich.”

Merlin tugged gently at the prince’s trouser leg. “Maybe we should go back. I don’t want us to cause any trouble”

Arthur turned to look at him, eyes wide. “You shan’t! I won’t have you return into the claws of that tyrant.”

Leon felt that he might faint. “You can’t go saying things like that.”

“He is obsessed,” the prince hissed. “He- He _terrorises_ Merlin; treats him worse than a dog!”

“That isn’t what I said,” Merlin spluttered. He glanced at Leon with a worried look. “I said he yells at me sometimes, when I fall over or laze about. He isn’t all that bad.”

Arthur turned red. “That is bad enough. I shan’t suffer you to be treated that way. I’ll challenge Ulrich to a duel, and I shall win your freedom.”

“By the gods,” Leon snapped. “King Ulrich does not care about one single servant. I am certain if you asked him, he would gladly turn the whelp over to your employment, especially if he is as clumsy and lazy as he sounds.”

Merlin looked like he wanted to protest the insult, but did not dare to. Arthur looked vaguely disappointed at the thought of not being allowed to fight for the honor of a servant boy. but he seemed to be calming down slightly.

“Pack up your things. We are going back to King Ulrich’s court.” Leon turned to get his horse, firmly putting a stop to the conversation. He heard the boys murmuring to one another, but did not turn.

On the way back, Leon rode behind the boys, watching the way the prince tried to make himself look like the body guard – for a servant! Leon was not an ignorant man. He was perfectly aware of the dangers of the prince’s infatuation with a servant. King Uther would not be happy when he realised – which he would, eventually, all tough Leon certainly wouldn’t be the one to bring it to his attention.

King Uther was already waiting in the courtyard when they arrived, ready to seize the prince by the arm and pull him into his guest room for a thorough scolding. Leon took the opportunity to take the servant boy aside.

“Prince Arthur has taken a liking to you,” he said, getting immediately to the point.

“It was his idea!” The servant boy looked at him with wide, worried eyes. “Me, I thought we were only playing, to alleviate his boredom. I’d never think to insult the king. And I wasn’t-“

Leon waved for him to be quiet. “Do you like him?”

The boy blinked. He looked at Leon as though trying to discern what the right answer was. “I do? Although I would never wish to cause him any inconvenience.”

“And would you go with him to Camelot if King Ulrich allows it?”

A gentle little smile spread across the boy’s lips, and for the first time, Leon felt assured that the servant was not a sly manipulator, but as young and foolish as the prince. “I will gladly stay at his side until he tires of me.”  
 “If you plan to wait for Prince Arthur to grow bored you shall have to wait for very long. Don’t count on his regard to be fickle. And if yours is, I would much rather you stay here rather than allow him to grow unnecessarily attached.” Leon carefully watched the boy’s face as he spoke, trying to detect any hint of distaste or dictate.

A sorrowful shine rose into the boy’s eyes. “You seem most terribly concerned with his heart, but forget how it would pain me to be set aside for some princess or lady when that day comes.”

Leon laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That is another thing you shall have to be prepared for. It is the duty of a prince to marry, either to strengthen the bonds to another kingdom, or to produce an heir.”

The boy looked down, brow furrowed in thought. At length his eyes returned to Leon’s. “I believe… I fear that pain, and I wonder if I shall regret liking him so. But I know that I shall regret it if I don’t go with him.”

“Then I have no concerns,” said Leon. “Other than that you show some level of digression, so as to keep the knowledge from reaching the wrong ears.”

The boy looked at him with a level of understanding beyond his years, and nodded solemnly.

And so, it was decided that Merlin would come to Camelot to work as Prince Arthur’s manservant. King Uther and King Ulrich both believed that this was was because of the obedience the boy had shown in assisting the prince’s endeavor to return to Camelot early, and while King Uther approved of this loyalty, he sternly reminded Merlin that it was him – his royal sovereign – he should primarily be concerned with obeying. Merlin nodded and bowed as though he had understood and was completely devoted to improvement, all the while sneaking back into the prince’s room each evening of their stay, after he had completed his duties for the evening.

He would nestle into the prince’s bed and wrap his arms around him, and they would talk with one another in low voices. Arthur would wait for Merlin to ask for a kiss, and stroke his hair and kiss him until the excitement become too much.

“I shan’t take your virtue until it is proper.”

“And when will it be proper?”

“We shall have a hand fastening ceremony when we return to Camelot.” The prince had read of such thing in romantic tales, and while he knew not exactly what it entitled, he knew that it was a vital part of a proper secret romance. And he would have their love be proper.

Those with more years and wisdom will recognize the foolishness in the quick attachment between the two boys, and the foolishness in such an impossible love – for the pleasures of it must inevitably degenerate into suffering. But to be young is to love easy and with a forcefulness that must inevitably be tempered by wisdom and disillusionment. The young cannot help but to act foolishly, when their hearts hold a dagger to their soul and forces it to act without thinking of the consequences. Many love stories have begun thus, and ended in tragedy. However, here, there is a secret, that none but one knew, that might make some difference in the future. Merlin had magic, and although he did not know it yet, he was destined to stay at Arthur’s side for the rest of time.


End file.
